


Coffee and Conversation

by soc_puppet



Series: Magical Museum AU [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 02:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18228974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soc_puppet/pseuds/soc_puppet
Summary: A small meeting between Floréal and Camille in which they discuss Grantaire, coffee, and embarrassing costumes from Camille's past.Takes place during To Go Back Different.





	Coffee and Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sovin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovin/gifts).



> This was [posted on tumblr ages ago ](http://socpuppet.tumblr.com/post/112095637912/floreal-and-camille-interacting-bribery-fancy), but I thought I might bring it to AO3.
> 
> Prompt via the lovely Sovin: 
> 
> Floreal and Camille interacting? Bribery, fancy coffee drinks, mutual grumbling about R and his even weirder than usual behavior lately? If, of course, you're interested! <3

There was a jingling of a bell and then the sound of someone tripping over the carpet and then the painful smack of flesh against what Floréal assumed was the marbled coffee counter. She did not look and continued sipping at her slowly melting whipped cream.

“One peppermint mocha please,” came the mournful tone from behind her to a murmured barista’s request. Floréal took out her phone and started playing with it. There was a delightful app with kittens and baking that she wanted to check out. 

Several minutes passed before a shadow crossed in front of her face and a familiar lanky form crashed noisily into the seat ahead of her.

“I hate that I never see him anymore,” Camille said. “And I hate it even worse that I’m so miserable about him being happy.”

Because that was true—R, for the first time in a long while, was happy. Not the punch drunk joy that cavorted around with empty eyes and manic grins, but a softer, kinder type of happiness. It didn’t erase the shadows that seemed to cloak him sometimes, but it softened them. Seeing that always woke an ember of content in her heart.

“He is happy, but it’s perfectly valid that you miss him. You share the same space but not the same times and you’ve always clung to him like a monkey on a circus dog’s back.”

Camille’s nose wrinkled as she sighed. “Ugh, not that story again, please Florry.”

“Call me ‘Florry’ again and I’ll see to it that it’s pasted across the face of every job you apply to.

"Besides,” she took another sip of her whip cream, “that costume of the two of you was simply adorable.” 

Camille let out a long groan and the thunk that reverberated against the table was not in the least bit unexpected. The fact that she had managed to not spill her coffee, however, was. The two Grantaire siblings, despite the temperament and age between them, were surprisingly alike. And it did help that the two adored the ever-loving daylights out of the other.

Floréal felt a smile tug at her lips as Camille peeked out from under the tangled mess that was her hair to peer up at the only other woman who could accurately read her brother.

"You drama queen,” Floréal said softly. The laughter in her voice curdled the words into a fond caress rather than a remonstrance.

“And you love both of us for it.” Giggles peaked up behind her words and a silly smile streched her face.

“I do. But, yes, R has seemed to be quite happier recently. I believe it’s because of his new job.”

Straitening up with a toss of her hair and a crack of her back, Camille nodded. “It’s great that he’s gotten out of the house and away from Maman and Papa, but it’s not like he’s doing anything. He just sits in the museum and guards it.”

“Well, yes, but he’s with the art. You know how he is.” They catch eyes and share a meaningful glance, filled with shared memories of enthusiastic paint and history rants. Then, as one, they sigh.

“I’m gonna KILL him if he doesn’t tell me soon,” Floréal snapped, sending her cup clunking against the table, irritation at the situation welling like blood on a worried cuticle. “I keep on seeing it in his eyes, he has a secret that he hasn’t told me yet. I am going to root it out of him like he’s a dandelion and I have your mother’s weird metal root digging monstrosity tool.”

Camille’s happy laughter echoed the soft clink of her cup against the rim of Floréal’s soupy not!whipcream coffee monstrosity.

"Have faith, Floréal,” she urged. “R still adores the heck out of you, just give him time. He’ll worry it over and then it will all blurt out, like a sudden avalanche.”

Floréal’s grin widened. “That it will, Camille. That it will. Now tell me about that new job of yours…”


End file.
